


curiosity killed the cat

by millenialnewt



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dyslexia, M/M, colourblindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenialnewt/pseuds/millenialnewt
Summary: Eames was obnoxious, had a big mouth and didn't know what personal space was.





	curiosity killed the cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is shit I dont even know why im posting it im.sorry
> 
> Eames' first name is Christian bc idk why, also I probably used way too many commas im sorry

Christian Eames was not normal; not typical. Of course, everybody who knew Eames knew that. 

Eames was obnoxious, had a big mouth and didn't know what personal space was. But apart from that, Eames also had other issues that no one but a select few knew about. 

If you looked at the clothes he wore, then a voice in the back of your head would already suggest a few choice words and theories as to why in the hell a man like Eames would wear clothes like that. 

Some assumed it reflected his obnoxious and irritating personality but the reality was so much simpler. 

It took Arthur two years, three months and fourteen hours to figure out why Eames wore the most hideous combinations of colours (not taking the patterns into account, those must have been really just his poor taste). 

Eames was born colourblind, his world a mix of blacks, whites and greys. 

 

 

 

They were just packing up their files when Arthur practically exploded. 

"Do you do this to irritate me? Why do you always wear these hideous shirts? Or do you really just have poor taste?" He all but blurted out, face flushing red the second Eames raised his eyebrows and stared up at him. 

"Why? Is there something wrong with my shirt, darling?" He asked in confusion and looked down at himself.

Arthur blinked, dumbfounded. "Eames, it's orange with pink stripes. No normal person wears that." 

Cobb, who had watched the conversation in silence up until now, snorted. "He is colourblind, Arthur, didn't you know?" He said casually, putting on his jacket and patting him on the back as he left the warehouse. 

"You're... what? Really?" Eames was an irritating man through and through. 

"Really," he nodded and put on his own jacket - 'Tweed,' Arthur thought, scrunching up his nose. 

"So that's why-" 

"Mhm. And here you thought I only did that to get your attention, darling? That's cute. Really cute," he winked, brushing his hand over Arthur's cheek. He slapped it in a playful manner before winking once again and leaving Arthur standing in a now empty warehouse. 

"Colourblind," he muttered to himself and shook his head. And here he thought he had the English man all figured out. 

 

 

Another thing apart from the hideous choice of clothing that Arthur noticed was that Christian Eames barely ever texted. He left voicemails, rarely sent emails and when he texted Arthur, his texts usually consisted of a lot of abbreviations. 

His emails, though professional - the only time Eames probably talked to him without any innuendos -, were filled with spelling mistakes. 

When Arthur asked Cobb about it, he just shrugged, gave him a short look and said "Ask Eames, not me" and that was that. 

Arthur thought that it a little rude to ask someone about their spelling errors and point them out but after receiving yet another email filled with useful information and professionally done research in which every other word was spelled incorrectly, he just had to ask. 

Eames didn't open the door to his hotel room when Arthur knocked, so he figured the man had gone out. He pulled out his phone and dialled Eames' number, waiting patiently for him to pick up. 

"Pet, what a lovely surprise. What can I do for you?" The English man drawled and Arthur was sure he wore a smirk on his face. 

Arthur felt already irritated enough. He rubbed a hand over his face before trying to slowly approach the topic. 

"Your email...," he trailed off, not really knowing how to phrase his question without being too insensitive. 

"My email." Eames prompted. 

"It was really good. I was... surprised. A lot of information." Internally, Arthur cringed at his awkwardness. 

"Why thank you, darling. But do not take this the wrong way: Are you drunk? It is not like you to call me just to compliment me," the man chuckled.

"No, Mr. Eames I am not drunk but you are right. I actually have a question."

"Ah. A question. There it is. Then do ask, my dear Arthur," the man all but laughed. 

"Your spelling it-" 

Arthur was interrupted by loud, obnoxious laughter. "Horrible? Not from this world? As bad as my taste in clothes?" 

"Yes," Arthur replied bluntly, honestly. 

"You know, Cobb and I actually made a bet on when you would finally crack and ask about that," the other man chuckled. 

"So why then?" 

"I am dyslexic, my love. That's why I usually leave voicemails. Granted, I could use a spell checking programme on my laptop but I was really curious when you would ask."

"Dyslexic?" Arthur asked, just to make sure he had heard right. 

"Dyslexic." 

A pause. 

"Is that all? Or do you want to hear about other things about me that actually function-" 

"Good night, Mr. Eames," Arthur interrupted him before he could turn an innocent conversation into some kind of sexual innuendo yet again. 

"Good night, pet," he laughed softly as Arthur hung up. 

And if Arthur dreamed of that soft laughter that night, that was no one's business but his own. 

 

 

 

In the end, Eames' imperfections didn't change a thing. He was still obnoxious, couldn't keep his mouth shut and still had no sense of personal space. But after finding out a few things about Eames - and not only his flaws - Arthur decided that his presence wasn't all too bad, after all. 

Not many people knew about his colourblindness and not many people knew about his dyslexia since they were nothing of importance and didn't hinder him in his job. 

Arthur knew, though. Arthur knew a lot about the mystery that was Christian Eames and every day he learned a new little detail about him which made him even more unique. 

Arthur found that he didn't longer mind Eames' endless invading of his personal space and his flirt attempts. He even grew to like it. 

But that was none of anyone's but his' and Eames' business, he thought as he stared at the sleeping man next to him with a small smile on his face.


End file.
